


Things we Don't Talk About

by Windian



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, M/M, Richass Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/pseuds/Windian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asbel walks in on King Richard in a rather compromising situation, and attempts to make amends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things we Don't Talk About

**Author's Note:**

> Quick drabble written for Richass Week. Day 5: Emerald- "trust."

The bow is crooked, which is probably the truest sign that Asbel wrapped this himself. With no small degree of curiosity, and a lingering shyness, Richard slips a finger under the fabric and slides the ribbon from the box. He tucks it away in his breast pocket before the strong breeze here on Lhant hill can whisk it away. Lifts the lid from the box.

Inside is an emerald green gown, silky to the touch and edged with simple but elegant lace. The chill cold of dread in Richard's bones settles into the pit of his stomach, like the movement of water deep underground.

The feeling pulls him back to last month, to when Asbel and Sophie had walked in on him. He'd been trussed up in ridiculous taffeta and lace, silk scarves draped over his shoulder, tentatively admiring the reflection in the looking glass like a goddamn peacock. Those feathers had been promptly plucked when he turned around to see Asbel staring at him, jaw hanging open. He'd willed the ground to open and swallow him and those foolish silk scarves whole.

 _You look nice, Richard,_ Sophie had said, but by then he'd already, with a wavering voice, ordered them _out, get out_.

None of them— and especially not Richard— had brought up the debacle later, and heavily Richard had added it to his expanding collection of _things we don't talk about._

And weeks later, Asbel had invited him on an impromptu date to Lhant hill. Things seemed back to normal. Sophie had offered to be their chaperone, "to guard Richard's virtue," which had earned some choice words from Asbel about Captain Malik's influence.

In other words, business as usual.

Except that Richard had already swept away the scarves, the taffeta, the lace into a draw at back of his mind. And, now: the green gown under his hand, eyes moving up to Asbel's, searching; heart sinking like the sun slipping lower towards the water.

"I hope it's alright," Asbel says. "I, uh, wasn't really sure what kind of thing you'd like. Obviously, since I'm not— I mean, not that you—"

"Asbel," Richard asks, his voice quiet, "what is this?"

"Uh. A dress?"

"No," says Richard. "I mean, why?" The breeze on the hill is cool, but all the same Richard can feel himself sweating. He stifles down the accusation that Asbel is in some way, mocking him.

Part of him can't help but murmur: that all of this was too good to last, anyway.

And yet, another part protests: that Asbel is nothing but sincere. Even to a fault. That he's never shown him anything but kindness and a generosity Richard isn't sure he deserves.

Asbel flushes, rubbing the back of his neck, colour spilling up toward his ears. "Sorry… this was probably a dumb idea."

 _Why are earth are you apologising?_ Richard wants to ask. "Asbel… I don't understand."

"Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick. I guess I'm pretty good at that. I just thought, maybe, you'd look nice in this." Asbel lifts his gaze from his lap and the heavy dread in Richard's stomach is the morning dew: transient and vanishing. Of course— how could he have thought such a thing of Asbel when Asbel is—

"There's a matching hat, too in the other box. Though that was supposed to be a surprise. Geez, I'm—"

Asbel breaks off abruptly as Richard cups his face. Kisses him, hard and tight enough to leave stars.

"You're wonderful," Richard says.

The flush on Asbel's face has reached down to his neck. "Did you want to try it on?"

"Here, Asbel?" Richard asks, raising an eyebrow. He's surely joking.

"Sure. I mean, Sophie was serious about that chaperone thing. She said she'd wait by the spring until sunset and, uh, deter anyone from coming up. I figured I wouldn't ask her how. So it's just you and me." He rumples the back of his hair. "Sorry. You probably gathered this wasn't my own brilliant idea. Sophie went shopping with me, too. Pretended we were buying clothes for our big sister, Tiger Festival, who, uh, has pretty broad shoulders for a woman. Sure I would have been clueless without her. I'm pretty lucky."

"I'm certain that's my line," Richard says, lifting the lid from the hat box and placing the sun hat atop Asbel's head. It's decorated with yellow carnations. Asbel grins, pulling his arms around him, kissing him. Slow, this time. Warm. Tender.

"What if we just call it even and agree we're both lucky?" Asbel asks.

"Hm, perhaps," Richard says, and when he leans up to pull his fingers through Asbel's hair, knocks the hat clean off his head. If he's judging it right, they've another hour until sunset.

Perhaps Sophie was right after all to be concerned for his Majesty's virtue.


End file.
